Once upon a time ....I was a naughty school boy!

Once upon a time – in a land far away – I was a naughty school boy too ! So, I was not always a good little boy! Not bad – but certainly not an angel. How is that for a beginning? Well, I studied in the Boys High school and college from grade eight till grade eleven and thoroughly enjoyed my time there. It was an all boys’ school in the heart of the city and the pupils came from in and around Allahabad. It was a day cum boarding school and the boarders were the toughies. Most of the boxers, athletes and boys is school teams were boarders. It was a great school and pupils who passed out were ready to face the world. However, in my last two years in school, like many others, I did get into my fair share of trouble as well. The school disciplinarian was known as the Sergeant and he was rather strict. So, if you did not have the right hair cut and by that I meant really short , arrived even a minute late for school , were not dressed appropriately , had dirty shoes , played truant etc you got six of the best and mind you , he had a strong arm . Many boys were dropped to school by their parents on scooters and by cars and they were punished in front of them as and when/ if needed. There were no quarters asked and none given. The Sergeant smiled while delivering the punishment which could be a few shots with his famous cane, being made to jump up and down while holding one’s ears or being literally lifted off the ground when he caught hold of our extra long sideburns ! At times he chatted with the parents while punishing their sons. That surely was a joke in poor tastebut no one complained! Surprisingly, he was very well loved by the boys and no one bore him any malice. As for the parents – they begged him to discipline their boys . However, we as a senior class were a trifle wild if that is the correct term – will leave you to judge. As boys were not allowed to carry footballs to school , we kicked around anything and everything during the break – it could be someone’s tiffin box, a plastic ball, a large marble or even stones wrapped in a sock . You can imagine – 12 boys of varying sizes, in a senior class, running wild in a narrow corridor ,playing this version of football. The result was broken furniture, damaged walls, broken lights and fans and the like – not to mention shins and ankles that took quite beating and clothes that were ruined. We were often hauled up and punished for this childish behaviour, but I guess we were thick skinned and defiant and so the games continued unabated. Slipping out of school during the lunch break and not returning was also indulged in. This was if we had periods where we knew the teacher was lenient. If we never got caught all was well and time was spent enjoyably chatting and stealing (at times buying) plums, guavas and raw mangoes from the villagers in the fields a few hundred meters away. When we got caught – things turned out badly and we paid the penalty manfully. Crying would make us the laughing stock of the school so there were no tea. However, all these were minor infringements compared to an incident that will be etched in my mind forever. If the doctor had not arrived on time I may not have been here keying in this article . There was a boy in our class- very well behaved, smartly dressed and a trifle reserved, who carried very tasty tiffin to school daily. It looked good, he seemed to relish it while eating & above all it gave off an amazing aroma. The kababs , puris , and sweets dishes were to die for . However, I do not remember him ever offering us – I could be wrong. Initially, on a few occasions and just for fun, a few of us stole his tiffin when he had left the class and finished it before he returned. He was obviously frustrated when this became a habit. For about a fortnight thereafter, he went home hungry as we had polished off his tiffin and there was very little, he could do about it. In those days, no one complained to the teacher – that was unheard of and no one went home and complained to parents either – that was just not done. You would be called a sissy. However, complain he did, to a young lady relative in his house and they planned to put an end to this bullying once and for all. They hatched a plan and what a plan it was. For some days he guarded his tiffin, almost with his life and we were unable to get our hands on it much to our dismay. Despite our best efforts, and all our devious attempts to distract him and steal the tiffin, we failed. However now when I think back, we were devils incarnate and we refused to accept defeat! Then one day he came to school with his tiffin as usual and put it in his desk in a rather nonchalant manner. Now if we were smart enough, we should have smelt a rat. However, our stomachs ruled and we fell for the trap. Leaving the tiffin in an open desk , he went out of the classroom during the tea break that day . We were determined to teach him a lesson for all the days of his being extra careful and so, in the ten minutes he was out , his tiffin was picked up( by me on that fateful day) , the food shared out- devoured within a few minutes and the empty tiffin put back . If I remember rightly the loot was shared between five of us. It was a seamless operation and we were thrilled. He returned, looked at the empty tiffin, surprisingly said nothing - class got over for the day and he left. Before I come to what happened thereafter, let me tell you what he had brought for tiffin that day. It was the most yummy “soogi halwa and puris “a sweet dish made of Semolina for the uninitiated! Well, about fifteen minutes thereafter all five of us felt a distinct rumbling in the stomach and literally ran towards the school toilets. Let me tell you while keeping this clean – we were there for about thirty minutes and could hardly walk with weakness after that. Somehow, I cycled home as did the others and without a word, threw the cycle down and ran to the toilet again. To cut a long story short it was food poisoning of the worst possible kind and I spent a large part of the evening and the next day oscillating between the toilet and my bed. By the time the doctor came home to visit me the next afternoon, I was too weak to move and on the verge of collapse. A few injections and tablets and two days in bed and I was soon walking – weak, wobbly but luckily alive. Yes it was that serious. All others faced a similar predicament in varying degrees. I guess because I was the weakest and thinnest, I fared the worst. The enquires then began and all of us blurted out the truth at our respective homes. Further investigation was carried out of what we had eaten and the truth was soon out. Despite being so weak we were all scolded and punished for bad behaviour. In my weak state I wondered what I would tell the Sergeant when I saw him next! (Coming back to the incident - our friend had confided in his relative as to how he had been literally bullied for days and with her help they had mixed something rather nasty in the food. The rest was history and it could have ended badly. Despite what had happened, there were no reports filed, no complaints made and the matter ended as quickly as it had begun . The school year ended as well, and we all went our separate ways. About forty years later guess who I meet? You guessed it right – my friend whose food we had been stealing eons ago. The whole episode came flooding back in minutest detail. Incidentally today we are both in the same country as well and have laughed over this matter on quite a few occasions. He is a well-established, dignified gentleman but he remembers the incident too . I promised him I would put the story up without naming names – and we all know that the fault was ours to begin with. I guess let me say it openly on behalf of all the other rascals – Sorry ……………..!! Before I end let me share something else which is equally interesting - he has also promised to get his wife to make a similar dish for me anytime I choose and he has promised to eat it with me ! All’s well that ends well !